


To be alone (to be alone with you)

by korereapers



Series: FE3H fic series [7]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Couple, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vanilla, post azure moon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23511736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korereapers/pseuds/korereapers
Summary: Dedue takes his hand, the one caressing his face, and kisses it. Soft. Tender.Human.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Series: FE3H fic series [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773310
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75





	To be alone (to be alone with you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Omaoc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omaoc/gifts), [VeloxVoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/gifts), [averynicecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/averynicecake/gifts).



> "All I've ever done is hide  
> From our times when you're near me  
> Honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes  
> I feel like a person for a moment of my life  
> But you don't know what hell you put me through  
> To have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you  
> To feel your weight in arms I'd never use  
> It's the god that heroin prays to  
> It feels good, girl, it feels good  
> It feels good, girl, it feels good  
> It feels good, girl, it feels good  
> Oh, to be alone with you"

It’s one of those days. 

War may be long over, years passing since the now king defeated the Adrestian emperor and put an end to five years of madness. Cities are being reconstructed, politics mended. 

Hearts, sadly, are not usually that easy to fix.

It’s not that Dimitri is suddenly happy, suddenly in peace. He still sees them. Hears them. The voices of the dead, not violent as they used to be, but still pretty insistent. Echoes inside of his mind, whispering secrets that he cannot unhear. Hands holding him, embracing him, protecting him. 

Dimitri is both extremely grateful, and incredibly tired. No white magic can cure this, even less in bad days. He has always been bad at asking for help, though. 

Luckily for him, his husband just knows. He cannot hide it from him, not from Dedue, who has known him for years, who has seen him at his worst. His confidant, his friend, his love.

“You are doing it again.”

Dimitri feigns ignorance, shrugging not very convincingly. First, because he is bad at lying in general, no matter how hard he tries. Second, because he rarely shrugs. He must have the worst interpretive skills in all of Fódlan. 

“You’re not buying it, right…” 

“To be frank, I’m not.” 

Dimitri sighs deeply, and ignores a man besides him that looks too much like a younger version of the now older Felix. The ghost offers distant words of encouragement. He just wants to hide under his sheets and sleep for two days.

“The dead, as always,” Dimitri clarifies, his long, blond hair in a messy ponytail getting even messier as he shakes his head slightly. “They are particularly noisy today.”

Dedue’s big hands are on his shoulders, offering some kind of relief. Pressure is always good for his mental health. Warmth, too. It helps him focus on the living, rather than on the dead.

“Why won’t you tell me when it gets worse?”

To that, Dimitri can answer with absolute honesty. He can feel Dedue’s worry on his voice, and he looks up meeting his turquoise gaze.

“You have your own problems to think about. I don’t want to be selfish.” he says, because it’s true. He has been selfish enough. Way too selfish, during the war. There are way, way more important matters to attend than him and his ghosts. Like the reconstruction of Duscur. 

How can he ask a man that has suffered so much to help him with his own issues?

“Your problems are my own,” Dedue reminds him, his hands massaging Dimitri’s shoulders. Dimitri suppresses a sigh, warmth pooling inside of his stomach as Dedue’s thumbs caress just between his neck and his shoulder. “I promised I would devote my life to you. Like you devote yours to mine.”

“But, Dedue, I…”

“Allow me to share the weight, Dimitri,” Dedue asks, his tone so gentle that Dimitri feels himself melting. “Of the dead. Of war. Of guilt. No matter what, we shall face it. Together.” 

Dimitri closes his eye, and sighs this time, Dedue’s hands moving lower, to his chest, not being able to feel his heartbeat yet but yearning for it, and keeping him in place.

“Can you… can you kiss me, Dedue?” 

He hears a chuckle, and he smiles, too. Dedue has always been a serious man, private in his affections. Not that he is that different. Where Dedue is discrete, he is just shy and awkward. 

And Dedue is kissing his forehead, his cheeks, leaving a trail of warm caresses on his skin. Dimitri wants a different kind of caress, though. It’s him who kisses Dedue on the lips, a little abruptly, clumsy in a way that only Dimitri can. 

He sees something, someone, through the corner of his eye. A woman dressed in red, expression calm but fierce. A man besides her, a looming shadow, smirk twisted and intelligent. Dimitri thinks of Ferdinand, who spent days crying, not leaving his room, guilt in his eyes after having to end the life of the man he loved. 

The memory of Hubert’s lifeless body hanging from a spear as dark magic died from his fingers makes Dimitri shiver. Looking at Ferdinand’s eyes, directly, not an ounce of hate coming from them. Ignoring Dimitri altogether, because in that moment, he didn’t matter. 

“I loved him, too,” Hubert’s ghost says, no venom coming out of his snake-like lips for once, and even if Dimitri knows he is probably hallucinating, he still believes him. 

He promises, to himself and the ghost, that he will talk to Ferdinand about the issue later. 

Edelgard, his sister, smiles in contentment. Dimitri feels no resentment anymore. Hasn’t felt it in a long time.

“Thinking too much,” Dedue mutters against his lips, big hands on Dimitri’s cheeks, making sure that no ghost will hurt him.

“ _Feeling_ too much,” Dimitri corrects him. Dedue smiles, and kisses him again.

Sitting on his throne , Dimitri feels more of a true king because of the way Dedue kisses him. Both of them are. There is a throne more fitting for him, though. He gets up, and gestures Dedue to sit. His husband looks tense at the thought, but Dimitri’s nervous smile seems to convince him. 

The Goddess may not be happy about them getting too affectionate in the throne room of what used to be the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Dimitri promises, sitting on Dedue’s lap, and kissing his forehead, that it won’t take them long to get into the Royal Chambers.

It doesn’t, actually. Dimitri looks for Dedue’s lips as soon as he closes the door, something and someone different to worship. 

_This is it_ , Dimitri thinks as they clumsily move towards the bed, too busy touching and kissing not to crash against the furniture once or twice. Dimitri swears he hears something break, and he sighs in resignation. He has fully accepted that he has way too much strength and that something is bound to break every time he gets a little too excited.

Years ago, the thought would have filled him with self-loathing. With Dedue muttering once again against his neck that the broken can always be fixed, Dimitri shudders, impatient but careful, undressing his husband, taking out his armor, asking him to do the same. 

They both touch as they lie in bed, rough hands against scarred skin. Fhirdiad feels a little less cold that way. 

But Dimitri remembers, and his hands stop moving, paralyzed. His father’s ghost looks at him right in the eye, the features on his face blurry. He mutters distorted words that Dimitri doesn’t get. His father’s head is barely attached to his body, blood pouring from the wound into the floor.

“Look at me,” Dedue says, because he knows. 

Dedue is not from Faerghus, where the dead cling to the living if they die full of regret and resentment. Dimitri has asked about it, about how (and if) the dead haunt Dedue, too. Spirits are everywhere in Duscur, giving life, not haunting those who are alive. It’s beautiful, Dimitri thinks. Duscur is beautiful. Dedue is even more beautiful.

Big hands are on his cheeks, keeping him focused, making sure he is looking at him. 

“Look at me. I’m here, Dimitri. I’m here.”

Dimitri chokes on his breath a little.

“I’m going to hurt you,” he mutters, his voice shaking, “I’m going to hurt you, Dedue.” 

“You won’t,” Dedue promises as he takes Dimitri’s trembling hands between his and kisses them with reverence. Delicately. Not because he is the king, but because he loves him. Not that Dimitri doesn’t understand the feeling. 

Dimitri could destroy literally anyone. Has killed people with his bare hands. Bended scissors on accident. Broken weapons as a kid just by swinging them. He is made to kill, to destroy, yet he has learnt that he can give life, too. Give love. 

He is unable to believe it at the moment, though. Not with his father’s eyes drilling through him, in this bedroom that used to be his.

“How can you be so certain?” 

Dedue’s eyes shine with tenderness, so, so warm, that Dimitri can feel something inside him vibrating with contentment. 

“Because you are gentle. Way too gentle.”

At that, Dimitri laughs dryly. And the words come out before he can stop them.

“Too soft to be king, as they used to say.”

Dedue looks at him, sternly.

“You know that’s the reason I decided to serve you, back in the day,” he starts, his voice slow and gentle, but still firm, “do not question my loyalty.” 

Dimitri sighs, guilt pooling inside of him. 

“Apologies. You know how much I value you, Dedue. How much I value everything you have done for me. What you still do, everyday. You… you are cherished to me.” 

Dedue’s breath stops for a moment, clearly moved... only to snort afterwards. That makes Dimitri perk up.

“I sure hope so, given that we are husbands. As you insist so very often.” 

That is enough to embarrass Dimitri even more. It has been a while since they got married, but thinking of the word “husbands” still manages to make him lovesick. 

“I… I think you should kiss me,” he says, throat a little dry, “before I embarrass myself any further.”

He has never been good at this. At expressing himself, in general. He was taught, as a kid, about words and precision, powerful speeches, etiquette and politeness. One of his two halves, the diplomatic king, cohabiting with the bloodthirsty animal. He is getting better at accepting both of them as parts of himself. 

He has never been good at delicate touches and love whispers, but Dedue is kind enough to be patient and take him as he is.

“My beloved,” Dimitri whispers against the scar on Dedue’s lip. Dedue’s body seems to react to his words, and a part of him feels oddly proud.

Dedue himself has always been better at speaking through actions. Calloused hands caress his cheeks, his neck. The same hands that gently handle flowers and kitchenware, that swing an axe and lift a shield.

The same hands that gently press him into the mattress, as if Dimitri were to break. As if Dimitri wasn’t the one who does the breaking.

“You haven’t taken off my eyepatch,” Dimitri notes, and Dedue’s expression is unmoving.

“Do you want me to?”

Dimitri nods, and Dedue finally, _finally_ smiles again. Chapped lips kiss Dimitri’s scarred eyelid, half opened to show a blank iris. Dimitri feels that he could die happy like this. 

_A kiss_. That is all it takes to make him feel human again. 

Unclad. Raw. Exposed. In front of the other, hands used to touching, and bodies learning how to be touched in ways that feel deserving, in ways that don’t hurt.

Dimitri makes a content noise, and smiles slightly when Dedue’s expression softens, eyes widening a little, eyelids half opened afterwards. It has taken a whole lot for Dedue to just allow himself to enjoy their shared intimacy publicly, to express what he feels in a way that Dimitri understands without having to ask.

Dedue’s hands are on his back, caressing his scars, and Dimitri shivers because he can actually feel his eyes on him, on his face, looking at him so deeply that he can feel himself blush.

He keeps him close, breathing from Dedue’s mouth, smiling slightly because of the way Dedue’s fingers tremble a little, always so steady, taking care of flowers with the same gentleness he uses to caress Dimitri’s skin. 

“You are eager, my dearest. Don’t restrain yourself.”

“I’m always eager for you. Always have been.”

They both blush furiously at the confession. Dedue has always been… devoted, to say the least. In life, and in bed. Dimitri has always seen him the happiest while lost in his own bliss. The most vocal of his reactions always get the best out of Dedue. For him to be upfront about it, it really makes Dimitri almost forget that he is having a terrible day.

“Goddess. My sweet, sweet Dedue,” he says, his voice shaking a little, a tiny smile on his lips. “Your words… if you talk like this…”

“You dislike it? Apologies, I can-” 

“Nonsense.” Dimitri half laughs, his hands on Dedue’s cheeks. “It’s the opposite, actually.”

Dedue smiles at that, honest and warm, and goddess, Dimitri loves him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dedue takes his self-appointed duty of keeping him grounded very seriously. There are kisses on Dimitri’s neck, big hands on his waist and stomach, as if Dedue were making sure that he is indeed eating properly, and not just trying to make Dimitri combust.

“Dedue, I am… I am not the most patient man.”

And Dedue’s tiny smile gives him all the information he needs before he even answers.

“I know.”

Dimitri laughs, and just lets him enjoy himself.

Dedue kisses his shoulder, gently touching one of his scars. Dimitri shudders, not at the touch, but at the way Dedue looks at him.

“Gronder.” Dedue murmurs against his skin. Dimitri just nods, his fingers playing with Dedue’s silver locks.

He gets what Dedue is doing, and he can feel his heart go soft, while… another part of his body gets even harder.

“Fhirdiad.” Dedue says against the big scar on Dimitri’s chest. Both of them remember that one pretty well. Dedue kisses it reverently, as a reminder. Dimitri wonders if Dedue can feel his heartbeat against his lips.

“Don’t…” 

_Don’t throw your life away for me ever again._

“I won’t. I promise.” 

By the point that Dedue arrives to his abdomen, Dimitri just ignores completely the whispers inside of his head. His body feels in charge of the whole situation, responding to each caress with so much enthusiasm he fears his soul is going to abandon him. His heart beats fast, faster than before.

“Garreg March,” Dedue says against his skin, warm breath against Dimitri. Back in the day, he would have felt embarrassed about the whole ordeal, about Dedue’s face being so close to his erection. 

Not anymore. 

Dimitri swallows, and nods, because he remembers how much the wound on his abdomen hurt that day. The day everything went to hell.

“All of those... aren’t the ones I feel the most proud of.” Dimitri reminds him, and Dedue’s expression softens in a moment. 

“I know.” 

Dimitri almost whines when Dedue’s warm, chapped lips embrace him, gently sucking on his length. He bites his lip, shuddering when Dedue’s hands gently hold his thighs, keeping him grounded, in place. Thumbs caress his inner thighs, darker blond hair against Dedue’s fingertips.

“My beloved…” Dimitri manages to say, his voice trembling. 

One of his hands reach out, looking for Dedue’s ones. Dedue takes it lovingly, stopping just for a moment to be able to kiss his knuckles, tenderly, in utter devotion. Fingers entwine, slow, firm, and gentle. Dedue isn’t scared of getting his bones broken if Dimitri loses control of his crest. He just trusts him that much. 

“You are a good man, with both light and darkness.” Dedue murmurs, turquoise eyes looking at Dimitri’s ones. “I am here to remind you of that, of the happiness you deserve, until I draw my last breath.”

Dimitri barely registers tears coming down his cheek, and Dedue just reassures him with his touch.

“Do you want to stop? We can just…” 

“No, no, no… I… I’m fine I just.... got a little too emotional. I apologize, Dedue.” 

“I see no reason to apologize.” Dedue insists, his thumb caressing Dimitri’s hand. “In fact, it was that sweetness of yours what won my heart, back in the day.”

Dimitri fears he is going to climax even if Dedue has barely touched him. He can think straight, heat running deep inside his belly. He sighs, trying to focus, and fails miserably. A wreck of a man, just by listening to his husband’s words.

“Dedue, I…” 

“Allow me to do it, please.”

Dimitri nods, and Dedue resumes his work after looking at him for a little too long, eyes dragging through Dimitri’s skin like he can’t have enough.

Both of them have lived through war. A senseless massacre, before that. Dimitri used to think that he had seen everything, experienced everything. That nothing could faze him anymore. The truth is, nothing could have prepared him for this. For the sight of Dedue and his eyes burning with both passion and devotion, taking his length into his mouth with evident eagerness.

_He is in love with me_ , Dimitri thinks, feverishly. _Dedue feels the same way I do when I look at him_.

It’s not that he doesn’t know. They’re married, after all. The thought still makes him euphoric. How lucky he is, to have wed a man like this. A man who loves him this much. A man he can love back, without reservation. 

Dedue’s mouth is warm and welcoming. Too much. Chapped lips drag through Dimitri’s skin, a tongue tasting him with agonizingly slow motions.

It doesn’t take much. He warns him, voice hoarse and shaky, that he is at his limit. If anything, that only makes Dedue suck harder, to the point that Dimitri is reduced to messy cries and thoughtless prayers.

Dedue’s mouth keeps working on him even after his release, and Dimitri trembles from the overstimulation. One of his feet is still shaking a little, toes curling. He laughs a little, his free hand caressing Dedue’s face, taking one of the silver locks behind Dedue’s ear, carefully.

“You are going to kill me.”

“I love you, Dimitri.” Dedue answers, in Duscurian. Dimitri can feel himself blush from head to toe.

They speak Duscurian, sometimes. Dimitri was taught the language when he was a child, and he may be rusty, but he can still understand it perfectly. It feels intimate. Delicate, like one of Dedue’s flowers. Beautiful words pronounced by beautiful lips, like a healing spell.

“You’re beautiful.” Dimitri answers in Duscurian, without thinking. Dedue looks up, face visibly red.

Dimitri is no genius, but he knows he is blushing even deeper, too.

They are kissing again, after he reassures Dedue that he doesn’t mind the taste (mainly because he cannot taste anything at all, but still), that he doesn’t find it gross. That he wants his husband’s mouth against his, if such is Dedue’s desire.

“Tell me what you want.” Dimitri asks, his voice low, still a little breathless. “I want to make you happy. Let me… let me make you happy.”

Dedue exhales, looking at him intensely, instinctively licking his own lips. He immediately shies away a little, but Dimitri is having none of it.

“Can I… Should I…”

“You are allowed to want me as much as I want you.” Dimitri reassures him, holding his hand again. “You are my equal, Dedue. You always were.”

Dedue breathes in, then breathes out. He has always been better at this whole calming down thing than Dimitri is. He keeps himself in check, his unconsciousness manifesting in the form of terrifying nightmares that Dimitri helps to dissipate between soft whispers and warm embraces. He wants to be there for Dedue, as much as Dedue is there for him.

“I want to be inside of you.” Dedue admits, and his face feels warmer to the touch. “I want to make love to you. To see your blissful expression, and to know it is my doing.”

“There you go…” Dimitri answers, a smile on his lips, a too familiar sensation tingling inside of his abdomen.

“Pardon me, that was way too selfi-”

“Dedue. Please.”

A sigh.

“Understood.”

They keep a bottle, in a bedside drawer. It’s discrete enough, made of glass, transparent fluid inside. The composition seems to be similar to a vulnerary’s, so it’s slippery enough.

It’s one of the things Dimitri likes the most. His husband’s nervous movements as he spreads his legs, making his job easier. The words of reassurance as a finger plays with his rim, tentatively, helping him relax before entering him.

It’s slow, tender, and Dimitri can’t get enough of that care. 

He loves the way Dedue looks at him, intense eyes on his face, as if drinking from every single expression. He loves it, and a part of him still wonders if this is something he deserves. The feeling is mutual, which never ceases to both amuse him and make him groan internally in exasperation.

Dimitri hopes that the look he is giving Dedue can convey everything he feels. If his expression is good enough.

“Dedue, my sweet, beloved Dedue...”

But just in case…

Dedue exhales from his nostrils, visibly moved. He arches his finger, testing the waters, and Dimitri smiles and nods, encouraging him. His fingers play with the sheets a little nervously.

“May I…? A second finger?”

“Yes, Goddess, of course.”

It burns a little, but it’s alright. He loves the gentle motions, the amount of care in every single movement.

“Breathe.” Dedue reminds him, serious.

Dimitri nods again, and breathes deeply, his muscles relaxing slowly. He is just way too impatient. He wants to pleasure Dedue, too. To kiss his face and never stop. To remember every single expression so vividly that he can see them again whenever he closes his eyes.

“I cannot wait to have you inside. It’s driving me mad.”

Dedue makes a sound, between a sigh and a grunt. Dimitri admires him, admires him so much, his composure, the way he steadies himself. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love teasing him, too.

“Patience.”

“Is a virtue.” Dimitri adds, smiling. “That I do not possess.”

Dedue does chuckle at that, and everything be damned, it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Let me pamper you, too.” Dimitri says, almost a plea.

A pause.

“Does it hurt any longer?”

“It does not. Dedue. Please.”

He wants to make him feel good. To make him happy, to let him know how much he means to him. To see every expression, hear every sound. Even if it’s selfish.

The thought startles him. Birds of a feather, indeed.

“Let me…” Dimitri starts, groaning slightly after Dedue’s fingers abandon him. He sure is feeling eager, because he is as hard as he was earlier.

He takes the little bottle himself, getting his hand wet enough, chuckling because of the way that Dedue looks at him, mesmerized, as if there was nothing and nobody as beautiful as him.

And Dimitri, the man, the monster, the human weapon, the way too soft king, freezes for a moment. Only for a moment, a warm feeling overwhelming him.

“I love you.” he says, and Dedue’s blush gets deeper.

“I… Dimitri, I… Gods. Words are not enough, Dimitri.” Dedue mumbles, bashful, shoulders tensing slightly, relaxing after a exhale. “Words are not enough to express how much I adore you.”

Dimitri gets closer, a shy smile on his face, his golden hair all disheveled. Dedue puts it in back in place almost instinctively, a delicate touch on Dimitri’s face.

“Show me, then. You have always spoken better through actions.”

The kiss is hungrier than before, yet incredibly gentle still. A little sloppy, slow, deep, full of barely restrained want. Dimitri takes the opportunity to prepare Dedue, impatient as he feels, coating his length with lube. Dedue moans into the kiss, and Dimitri smiles, because he knows.

“Let me sit on your lap, please. I want to take you.” Dimitri asks, and Dedue curses in Duscurian. Which is a feat, because he almost never curses.

“Now I am the one feeling impatient.” Dedue admits, teal eyes looking away, so beautifully shy it breaks him. “I apologize.”

What’s broken can be fixed, though.

He sits on Dedue’s lap, face to face, legs embracing Dedue’s waist and hips. Dedue’s hands instinctively go to his back, touching the scars delicately.

“Duscur.” Dimitri says, smiling. He positions Dedue’s member, slowly taking him in. “Those… Those are certainly the ones I am the most proud of.”

Dimitri can almost see the amount of restraint Dedue has to use not to move just yet, muscles tensing, gaze piercing. So he goes down himself, quicker than before. And Dedue just moans, hoarsely.

Dimitri can’t get enough of it.

“Careful.” Dedue reminds him.

“I am not in pain. I never am, if it’s with you.”

Dedue makes an incoherent sound, hands moving up to Dimitri’s nape, keeping their faces close, breathing heavily when Dimitri moves again. The rhythm is slow and steady, building just the right amount of tension.

Dedue moves upwards, and they meet in the middle, the angle just perfect, and Dimitri whimpers, his legs shaking for a moment. Dedue smiles, repeating the motion, and Dimitri realises it is something akin to an unspoken competition. To see who can make the other feel better.

And none of them even cares about winning.

Dedue cannot stop kissing him. It’s like flipping a switch. As if the amount of love and devotion he feels was finally out without any kind of restraint. Dimitri wants him like this, loves him like this. Without reservation.

Dimitri cares not about ghosts anymore, because he only has eyes for Dedue.

“Goddess, I… I love you. I love you so much.”

The pace gets quicker, a strangled moan coming out of Dimitri’s lips. Dedue makes a deep and shaky noise, and Dimitri’s grip on his shoulders tenses a little.

“My beloved… sweet, beloved... Dedue.”

“Dima… Dima…” Dedue says, almost like a prayer. Dimitri wonders if that’s the way he sounds, too, because it is sure the way he feels.

One of Dedue’s calloused hands is on his erection, pumping him slowly. At that, Dimitri literally squirms, the loud sound that leaves him absolutely raw. Too human, way too human.

“You are going to kill me.” he half grunts, half giggles.

Dedue smiles, and does it again.

Dimitri buries his face on Dedue’s shoulder, kissing it, muffling his moans slightly. He can feel Dedue’s lips on his head, his warm breath, and Dimitri knows he is close. Both of them are.

So of course, he makes a last effort, making Dedue moan, loud. He moves slowly when he feels Dedue’s orgasm, making the most out of it, making the pleasure last longer. He almost comes himself just by looking at Dedue’s face, his blissful expression, his smile so open, not guarded anymore.

Dedue breathes, and mumbles something incoherent, half in Duscurian, half in the language of Fódlan.

“Dima… let me…”

And Dimitri does, letting Dedue look at his face as much as he wishes. He lets him touch, he lets his guard completely down as Dedue’s palm and fingers bring him over the edge. He bites his lip for a moment when he comes, too overwhelmed to restrain himself for long. Dedue’s free hand is on his cheek, then on his forehead, moving his hair and putting it in place again, just to be able to see his face.

_Like this_. Dimitri thinks. This is where he truly belongs. Sitting on Dedue’s lap, not sitting on the throne.

Minutes later, they just cuddle, next to each other. Dimitri’s fingers absentmindedly touch Dedue’s face, every scar, every feature. Dedue closes his eyes, full of love, full of trust.

“You haven’t hurt me.” Dedue says, and Dimitri blinks, not realising what he is talking about for a moment.

“I…”

“You would never hurt me.” Dedue continues, opening his eyes. “Because that’s not the kind of man you are.”

“Dedue…”

Dedue takes his hand, the one caressing his face, and kisses it. Soft. Tender.

Human.

“You are better at being delicate and gentle than you think you are. Your strength is not physical. It never was.” 

And Dimitri kisses him again. He is crying, he realises, but he doesn’t care. He sobs as they kiss, embraces Dedue closer. Dedue makes soothing motions on his back with his fingers. On his scars. The ones he is the most proud of.

To be alone like this, sharing, loving. It’s what Dimitri has always wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> This mess wouldn't have been possible without the three people I'm mentioning. They all encouraged me, and @averynicecake even beta-ed the thing! Which was. Wow I cannot be grateful enough.
> 
> It has been some time since I last wrote a longer one-shot. It was worth it. But I'm exhausted. And kinda anxious but that's life
> 
> As always, I'm not a native speaker yadda yadda I just hate myself that much.
> 
> My writing account is @prayforfroot in both tumblr and twitter. My main tumblr account is @eskuhotzak.
> 
> Also yes! I know the song is about drug abuse. But I am sappy and I will be to the day I die


End file.
